'Till I Found You

O Mundo Colapsa 7
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2200, Inverno, 12.15 GMT

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Fora Jorge quem também urdira a única forma das CM's funcionarem em tempo real, que era precisamente o que estava a acontecer nesse momento. Nos velhos tempos humanos este esquema teria sido impossível fisicamente, mas na Era da Vida Artificial, era não só possível como até divertido e tão simples que dava até vontade de rir. Jorge não fizera mais do que basear-se na velhota técnica de hacking apelidada de "cirurgia virtual" - entrar, enviar e sair. Nos velhos tempos os hackers usavam esta técnica para não serem detectados - entrar e sair de computadores apagando o rasto antes que a polícia os pudesse detectar. O problema é que esta técnica tinha um calcanhar de Aquiles - os hackers eram humanos, tinham corpo físico, logo, eventualmente tinham de estar fisicamente em algum lugar, o que era condição suficiente para poderem ser apanhados. Nos tempos modernos este calcanhar não existia, pura e simplesmente porque um ARLI não tinha de estar em lugar algum, uma vez que era constituído apenas por bits de informação.

Portanto, o que acontecia durante as CM's era uma espécie de jogo da apanhada, em que cada Chefe e Assistente "saltava" de PacMaster em PacMaster, deixando pedaços de informação o tempo suficiente para que o Chefe ou Assistente que o seguia a registasse e respondesse, saltando para outro PacMaster aleatoriamente. Não era por acaso que na gíria, as CM's fossem também conhecidas como "tripadas". E não era também por acaso que o único efeito secundário das CM's fosse a chamada "bezana virtual" - um período de euforia do sistema de suporte de vida artificial, provocado pela velocidade supersónica da deslocação, entrada e saída de dados e mudança constante de localização, cujos efeitos eram normalmente dois: entrada em funcionamento de todos os programas de cada ARLI a 100%, logo seguida de paragem absoluta e entrada involuntária em hibernação - dito por outras palavras, depois de uma CM toda a gente flipava e a seguir caía para o lado.

C. adorava as CM's. Eram como as velhas saídas à noite, em que toda a gente bebe até cair e ninguém se lembra de nada no dia seguinte. Pelo menos a seguir às CM's conseguia esquecer ...

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25/11/2030

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Guardian-Angel,

I've come so far only to find pain and anguish. What is it with us that we never value what we have until it's all gone and there's no way of getting it back? Humans are stupid.

I started taking pictures again. I went for a walk with the camera, although I didn't intend to use it. Then I saw some jungle children playing with stones. I sat down on the floor to watch them and, before I knew it, I heard myself clicking non-stop. I stood still, trying to realize what had just happened and I guess I attracted the children's attention because they started laughing at me and their laughter brought me back to reality. And then I realized something I hadn't felt for a long time - I missed being a shadow, capturing life and feelings because I was invisible and people weren't afraid of being themselves around me and my camera.

I don't know if I feel better because of this, I don't even know if I wanted this that much, but now I can't put the camera down again. And even this reminds me of you. You changed me. I am not the same person you met. And at the same time I am. Because of you I became a better version of myself, an upgraded version. Maybe that's why I came here. Not to fill the emptiness, because somehow I know the emptiness will never end. But to prove to myself that I am not the coward I believe I am.

Tuesday

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26/11/2030

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Guardian-Angel,

Yesterday there was a violent battle a few miles north from The Bridge. Hundreds of men were wounded, others killed. The dead are left behind, for no time can be wasted on them. Hundreds of mothers and fathers are going to receive a call from the Ministry of War telling them their son has gone missing in action. For years these parents will never forget the pre-recorded voice of the high-tech machine telling them they will probably never see their son again.

The Bridge is a deep, large, dark swamp area stretching miles from one side to the other, where the sun never shines. It is filled with all sorts of mortal insects carrying fatal deseases and wild terrifying beasts, the ones our government produced in laboratory before The Raging Fury Week, 10 years ago. Those beasts are said to be the real cause of this war. I don't know about that. What I know is no human being whishes his best enemy such encounters.

The men say there have been some survivors from the attacks of the beasts. They believe some strange force is responsible for that. Strangely or not, the survivors die shortly after, without sharing with anyone their experience. I don't know if such a force exists, but if it helps the men to hope, then it must be of some use.

Did you ever stop to think that love is like religion? Did the scientist that breaths inside you ever realized you're a walking talking paradox? I never told you my theory, did I? I believe love is like religion. People want to believe in love as much as they want to believe in a faceless God, because they're too scared of what they might become after they're gone - nothing. At best, stardust. I like stardust. Beats being an angel every day. Stardust is cooler. I know you'd smile at this one. Love works the same way. It only happens when two people believe so much in their love for eachother that the mutual feeling created by them is almost like a kind of energy. I believe we did that in our own private brain labs. We created love. In the end, it was like Frankenstein. We made something we couldn't control anymore. And we both screwed up ...

Tuesday